


Invitation

by OpalTheFluffmaker



Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 06:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15407217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalTheFluffmaker/pseuds/OpalTheFluffmaker
Summary: Norman very rarely received thanks for his work. He had expected this case to be another instance where he'd fade into obscurity soon afterwards. But he's taken by surprise when he's given the phone number of the fugitive he had helped escape.





	Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Another old fic of mine ;u; The next one I post will probably be a more recent one. Might be a while though.  
> This isn't really a shipping fic, but more of a...pre-shipping fic? I don't really know what to call these things :P  
> Anyway, I hope you like it ^_^

Another day of paperwork he had to take care of.

Such was the aftermath of every case he had been sent on, and this one would obviously be no exception. The more mundane part of his job, in great contrast with escaping vehicles descending into crushers and fighting serial killers on conveyer belts.

At this point, Norman felt as if he should have been more appreciative of the more uneventful work, at the very least finding some relief from it after being put through multiple near-death situations, but that didn't stop it from getting slightly tedious. No one could really appreciate being kept in an office that looked more like a janitor's closet--in fact, who was to say it hadn't been used as one prior to his arrival?

Releasing a light sigh, Norman looked up at the dull ceiling, letting his mind stray from the task at hand for a bit and wondering what it could hurt. He hadn't gotten a lot of time to properly think things over during the case, with the pressures set upon him and the lieutenant shouting in his ear during just about any disagreement. The trip over to this city had been one nightmare after another for him—however, despite everything he had been through, he knew for certain that he was not the one who suffered the most during the investigation.

That title belonged to Shaun and Ethan Mars, who had both been put through hell soon after he arrived to the town, and not the least bit deserving of any of it. The profiler could only imagine how it must have felt for Shaun, seeking help from a man who appeared to be a police officer when his father was caught in a blackout, only to be lured and trapped within a flooding well for almost five days. That experience would leave a great amount of psychological trauma for anyone, especially for such a young child. Had he and Ethan not made it to the warehouse right when they did…

_...no. Don't think like that, everything's fine. You could have failed to make it in time, but you didn't._

They were able to accomplish it, and the father and child were together again. Norman only hoped that the two of them could support each others' remaining anxieties now.

Ethan Mars had not fared much better. Further details about his situation had been revealed when he and his son were taken to the hospital after the incident, and soon everything about his circumstances had been brought to light—the blackouts, the box of origami figures, the sadistic trials that came with each model—all of that along with being labeled as the Origami Killer by the police, leaving him under tremendous stress. Upon closer inspection, it was made apparent that he had not moved past them unscathed, with the bandaged cuts that littered his limbs and the diagnosis of a couple of broken ribs, and the pinky finger…

Needless to say, Norman was left feeling quite the amount of sympathy for the two survivors. He was now glad that he had followed his intuition and helped Ethan exit the precinct that day, knowing full well about everything he had risked in doing so. It was a miracle that the plan went by unnoticed--not even Carter Blake confronted him about it, despite taking every opportunity to clash with him since day one. But he knew that Ethan could never have been the murderer. Looking at his profile and location (and hearing his nonsensical explanations during the interrogation) further cemented that belief. More importantly, however, he was glad that Scott Shelby was no longer around to hurt anyone else, and that both the father and son were safe from his wrath—along with the wrath of a certain other psychopath in the city. A part of him suspected, given the sudden accusations placed on Ethan, that if the Origami Killer wasn’t the death of him, the police would have been. Knowing Blake, he probably would have had every officer fire their guns at him at first glance.

The creak of his door opening interrupted his train of thought, and he immediately knew who it was before he heard his voice. 

“You’re still here, _Nor_ man? How long does it take to fill out some goddamn paperwork?”

_Speak of the devil, am I right? There’s only one guy around here who barges in without warning…_

“I thought you’d be done with this shit by now,” Blake snapped at him. “Or are you trying to get it done as slowly as possible?”

“These things take time, Blake. If I hurry through this, I might miss somethin’ important.” Norman narrowed his eyes at the lieutenant in annoyance. “Besides, why do you care? The case is closed. It’s not like ah’m your problem anymore.”

“You’re right. You’re _not_ my problem. And I can’t wait for the day when you’re nobody else’s problem either.”

Norman expected—and hoped—that Blake would leave him to his solitude right after that remark, but as he prepared to get back to work he was caught off-guard by the sound of Blake’s hand slamming against the surface of the desk.

“ _Christ,_ Blake,” he muttered. “I wasn’t sure it was _possible_ for you to become more unhinged.”

“Just take the damn note.”

_Note?_ Norman looked down at the desk to find a small piece of paper resting next to his forms. “I don’t really want your number, thanks.”

“That’s not what it is, dumbass,” Blake spat, the agent’s sarcasm clearly flying over his head. “Mars was here just now, and he was asking for you. You were busy bullshitting in here so they didn’t let him through, but he wouldn’t fuck off until we at least gave you his contact information.”

Norman’s eyebrows rose in slight surprise and curiosity, and he gently picked up the paper, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he read the words, number and address written in neat handwriting.

_“To Agent Norman Jayden—_  
Shaun and I are truly grateful for your help. Without you, we both surely would’ve died at the warehouse.  
I want to be able to thank you properly. Please contact me whenever you get the chance.  
—Ethan Mars” 

“Innerestin',” Norman mused. “I wonder what in particular he has to say to me…”

“Yeah, well, like you said, it’s not my problem anymore. And neither are you.” The profiler didn’t bother to look up as he heard Blake stomp away towards the door. “Goodbye and good riddance, _Nor_ man.”

The door slammed shut and he breathed a sigh of relief, now that he didn’t have to deal with his ex-partner anymore.

_Likewise,_ he thought to himself, looking over the note once more. _Still, what more does Ethan have to say that he hasn’t written on this card already? I should wait until after work to call, but…_

_...paperwork be damned._ Norman pulled out his cellphone and dialed in the number written on the note. Only a few seconds later did he get an answer.

“Hello?” Ethan’s voice spoke into his ear, sounding much smoother and clearer than he heard it before—for justifiable reasons.

“Ethan Mars? This is agent Nahman Jayden,” Norman greeted him. “I was told you wanted to speak with me?”

“Oh! Mr. Jayden!” A sudden tone of excitement was conveyed in the father's voice. "Y-Yes, I did want to talk to you. Thank you for taking the time to call me. I'm sure you're very busy with your work..."

"It's no problem at all, Mr. Mars," Norman reassured him, taking note of the hint of nervousness within his voice. "What did you want to talk about? Is there ehnethin' you need?"

"You can call me Ethan," Ethan responded. "And...n-no, there's nothing I really need. I just...realized I hadn't thanked you for your hard work in the investigation."

"No thanks is necessary. Knowing you an' Shaun are outta harm’s way is enough."

"Still, I want to show you how grateful I am," Ethan insisted. "Words just can't express it...because of you, Shaun is alive. Safe. With me. You were one of the few people who believed I was innocent, at a point where I didn’t know if I was innocent myself…” There was a brief pause in his speech, and Norman noticed his voice faltering a bit towards the end of his sentence, before he spoke up again. “…and you’ve helped me realize that I can put my trust in people. After being chased down by the police and being…deceived by someone else I thought wanted to help me, that was something I really needed.”

Norman felt a strange warmth inside of himself, a feeling he was uncertain he had ever experienced before. Doing his best to ignore it, he answered, “Ah’m…happy to hear I could help you with all of that, Ethan. You an’ Shaun deserve to be safe. And…feel safe.”

The other end of the line was silent, save for the sound of quiet breathing. Norman remained quiet too, unsure of what to say—if it was even appropriate to say anything—and whether or not Ethan had anything else to add. When a minute had gone by without any words shared, the profiler awkwardly cleared his throat, gently breaking the silence. “Well, if that’s ehvrethin’, an’ you don’t need help with ehnethin’ at the moment, I should get back to work now.”

“W-Wait…please.” Ethan’s voice, hurried and somewhat tense, spoke into his ear before he could make a move to end the call. “I…can I ask you something?”

At this rate, those forms were never going to be filled out. “What would that be, Ethan?”

“Well…I understand if you don’t have the time, but…” The father sounded quite hesitant as he went on. "...l-like I said, words can’t express my gratitude, let alone over a phone call. So I was just wondering if…maybe you’d like to come over for dinner tonight?”

Well. That request threw him off-guard.

It was a kind gesture, really, one that he could appreciate. Norman knew that Ethan had good intentions in this. His psychological profile suggested that he would never hurt anyone if he could help it. Still, he wasn’t entirely used to hearing things like this. When was the last time anyone had invited him for dinner?

_Was_ there any point in time where they did?

“I-I mean, I-I’m not the best cook or anything,” Ethan stammered into the phone, “but if all else fails, we could order something. Whatever you wanted. It’s the least I can do to repay you, a-and I know Shaun would be excited to meet his hero…”

“I think you’re his real hero, Ethan,” the profiler quipped, in an attempt to soothe his caller’s tension, “but ah’m honored to hear that ah’m a close second.”

Apparently the attempt failed, because Ethan’s voice grew all the more shaky in his reply, as if he were flustered by his words. “Y-Y—You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“…I do.”

“Good…again, I-I understand if you can’t make it.” Ethan took a deep breath before he went on, and Norman couldn’t help but feel slight concern, wondering if he actually worked him up that badly. “I have no idea what it’s like to work in the FBI, but I can see how it’d take up most of your time…but we’d both love it if you could come.”

This was all very new and strange to Norman. It almost felt like he was living someone else’s life, being invited for dinner by someone he might as well have considered a stranger. And he hadn’t planned on staying in this town any longer than he had to, except for maybe one more check on the father and son—part of him felt like it would be better if he left as soon as he could, so he could get right to forgetting that anything ever happened.

_But…_

“What time should I arrive?” Norman asked, against his better judgment, wondering what exactly he was getting himself into.

————

Norman arrived by 7:30 PM, at the address that was written on the paper. It was his first time viewing Ethan’s house—not once had he nor Blake gone over to investigate during their search for him when he was a suspect, due to receiving word that he was last seen driving away and had not been seen in the neighborhood again for 24 hours. Getting a good look at it now, the agent had to admit that it looked nice in a somewhat cozy way. It appeared to be a bit run-down, but that was easy enough to fix, and considering everything Ethan and Shaun had been through even before recent events, the lack of care put into the appearance was justifiable.

Norman felt himself tense up slightly as he approached the front door, preparing to knock on the surface. The whole day he had been thinking this over, wondering if this was actually a good idea, if he should have just called Ethan back and told him he had to cancel—even now, now that he was about to let them know of his arrival, he asked himself if it was too late to go back. With his social skills being less than masterful, what if he only made the situation awkward for all three of them? What if Ethan or Shaun were to notice whatever it was about him that made everyone feel disdain towards him, and then suddenly hate him too?

_What if…”that”…happens…?_

Norman forced himself to take a deep breath, shutting his eyes as he pulled himself together. He was right in front of the door, at the exact time they arranged. Of course it was too late for him to leave and cancel it at this point. And there was no way Ethan or Shaun would end up hating him…the only people he really got to know during the investigation were corrupt officers (led by their shitheaded captain) and criminals wanting to prevent their comeuppance. He couldn’t let his judgment on everyone he met be based entirely on his bad experiences, even if the bad experiences were a majority.

_And…And I can handle withdrawal if it kicks in…can’t I? Obviously I can’t take it in front of Shaun, even if I wanted to give in…I could just go wash my face or tell them I needed to get back to the hotel earlier than expected. I can find a way to work things out…I will…_

In the midst of his thoughts, Norman was already knocking on the door.

Only a few seconds later was he greeted by Ethan Mars, dressed in a clean grey sweater and jeans, his hair neatened up but his face remaining unshaven. He looked as if he were trying to put up a relaxed front, giving the agent a small smile, but the look in his eyes was a real giveaway of the nervousness he truly felt. Not that Norman could blame him for feeling that way—he knew it would take some time for him to trust others again.

“Hello, Mr. Jayden,” Ethan welcomed him warmly, extending his right hand. “I’m glad you could make it. I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble…”

Norman accepted his handshake. “You haven’t caused me ehny trouble, Ethan. To tell you the truth, ah've thought about stopping by to check on you before I leave town."

Ethan's eyebrows rose up slightly in surprise. "You--You have?"

"Just to see if you or Shaun need ehnethin'," Norman explained as Ethan allowed him to step inside. "You've both been through traumatic experiences, an' I...thought that providing some support would be the least I could do."

"Least you can do?" Ethan closed the front door while giving him an incredulous look. "You've done so much already, Mr. Jayden. Shaun's alive--he's still with me because of you."

The all too familiar feeling of uneasiness tapped at Norman's mind, giving him another unneeded reminder of the awkward person he was behind the tenacious hero the media had made him out to be. He had grown used to his social anxiety over the years, though he would have been lying if he said he didn't want to change it. It was especially a nuisance in scenarios like this, when he struggled to think of a good response to Ethan's words.

Fortunately for him, he didn't have to this time. The older man gestured towards the living room area--their old sofa to be more specific--before heading over to the kitchen. "Please, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Do you want a drink or anything...?"

After receiving his options--orange juice, water, or a beer--the profiler requested the former and, as Ethan went to pour it for him, sat down on the couch. He glanced around the room in an attempt to calm himself down a little, hoping the tension in his shoulders would fade away soon. It was always unfamiliar people and locations that brought up these feelings within him, and though he could hide it well enough at work, it was a bit different on his own time.

He would never admit it out loud, but Norman had seen homes in better shape. It was nowhere near as bad as Nathaniel's apartment, of course, but something about this house made it seem like it wasn't really being lived in. Perhaps it was the lack of wallpaper or paint on the walls, or the cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked as they sat near the stairs, or just how empty the area felt overall.

_The files did say they lived here for about two years, didn't it...?_

Before he could give anymore thought to it, Ethan was back with two glasses of orange juice in his grasp, calling out for Shaun to come down and join them. He handed one over to him before taking a seat by him, leaving a space between them presumably for his son.

"Thanks," Norman said softly, mustering a kind smile in the hopes of easing both of their nerves before he took a sip.

Ethan nodded. "I'm sorry the house doesn't look its best. We never got around to making it look nicer." He ducked his head in what Norman assumed to be embarrassment. "If I'm being honest, though...it doesn't actually feel like home. Nothing's ever had since..."

His voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes as his face shaped itself into a saddened expression. Norman knew he couldn't simply come right out and say it, and he didn't have to. The information was in his profile, explaining the event that caused him his current grief and dissociation.

_Thinking back on it now, someone should have brought it up as a possible alibi during his interrogation._

"You don't hafta tell me ehnethin' you don't want to," the agent reassured him.

Ethan looked back over at him after a second or two had passed, a sad smile sneaking onto his features. "Sorry. It...I-It's not that I don't trust you, it's just...still been hard for me to talk about." He looked the other way once more, as if making eye contact was an immense struggle for him. "Even after two years, it feels like I-I...just can't accept..."

Norman hesitantly set a gentle hand upon Ethan's arm, suddenly feeling all the more compassion for the bereaved father as he listened to him. "I know how difficult things have been for the two of you recently. I might not know from experience, but I understand what you've been through."

Ethan went for another moment without saying anything, while Norman simply waited patiently for his next words, his hand not moving from its place for a second other than to occasionally rub his arm. It was a bit of an odd position he found himself in, but he didn't actually mind it at all.

If anything--though it was strange to admit--he seemed to be enjoying it slightly.

"I'm being pathetic, aren't I," Ethan finally spoke up again. "I know you didn't come here to listen to me complain, especially after everything you've done for us...the whole thing was my fault in the first place..."

"None of this was your fault, Ethan."

At that moment, before the agent could offer any more words of comfort, they both heard the hurried footsteps of Shaun coming down the stairs, accompanied briefly by his soft voice greeting them as he made his way to the couch. Norman took note of Shaun's quiet, somewhat shy attitude as he sat down, making sure to be careful when he spoke to him. Given how understandably on-edge Ethan was about their circumstances, he could only imagine what his child was feeling right now.

Shaun ended up surprising him by starting up conversation again. "Don't drink the orange juice."

Norman raised an eyebrow in response. "Hmm? How come?"

"Dad always drinks out of the cartons," Shaun answered, and though his voice was certainly not loud, it could definitely be heard by Ethan, whose eyes widened and face reddened as if on cue.

Norman glanced back down at the glass nonchalantly, then shrugged his shoulders, doing his best to not grin at the architect's expense. "Ah'm afraid you warned me too late, kiddo."

Shaun squinted in mock disgust. "Gross. You've got my dad's germs now."

"I-I didn't think you'd see me do that," Ethan stammered, turning his head away from the both of them self-consciously.

"You always do it after we eat dinner! Just don't do it in front of Mr. Jayden, okay?"

"All right, all right...don't want to embarrass you in front of your hero..."

Norman knew that the arguing was all in jest, and he was grateful for the teasing melting away the tension between the three of them. _Now_ he allowed himself to smile.

\---------

The evening went on without any more incidents. Ethan's cooking turned out to not be as bad as he made it out to be over the phone, and Shaun was full of questions about Norman's line of work. By the end of it all, Norman almost didn't want to go, as such warm company was a rare occurrence.

Unfortunately, he did eventually need to leave. He didn't want to ruin any routine Ethan and Shaun had, and he needed to rest up for the remainder of his paperwork tomorrow.

As he approached the front door, while Shaun was in the bathroom preparing for bed, Ethan spoke before he could open it.

"Are you leaving soon, Mr. Jayden?"

"I do hafta get back to my hotel room at some point, Ethan."

"N-No, I...I mean, are you leaving...town soon..."

A short pause, then Norman nodded. After all, the only thing keeping him here now were the forms. The case was closed, the survivors were pulling through it with access to whatever help they needed, and there was nothing he wanted to stay in town for.

_Or at least, that's how I felt before..._

"I...I-I know you'd probably want to leave as soon as possible...forget about everything that's happened..." Ethan released a nervous laugh, averting his eyes when Norman looked back to him. "I know I'd like to forget, but..." He slowly tilted his head upward to meet the profiler's gaze. "...if you were to come back here...maybe I could meet up with you again? If you wanted..."

"I might give that some thought," Norman replied, turning around to face Ethan properly. "Truthfully...you an' Shaun were the two good people ah've met in this town. I know that dealing with difficult people is nothin' compared to what you've had to do, but...people like you aren't always easy to come by in my line of work."

"I'm glad we were easier to be around," Ethan said, a soft smile gracing his features. "Thank you again for all of your hard work, Mr. Jayden. I'll never forget what you've done. If there's ever anything you need me to do for you, don't hesitate to let me know."

After thinking these words over for a second, Norman returned the smile. "Call me Nahman."

After they said their goodbyes, Norman headed down the pathway from the Mars' residence and over to his car, planning to drive back to the hotel and get some sleep hinself. And as he sat in the driver's seat, before starting the car he thought over Ethan's offer.

_To come back here again...just before I confronted Mad Jack, I rejected the idea without a second thought. But meeting people as kind and caring as Ethan and his son is a real surprise...though never an unwelcome one..._

At the very least, it was something he would consider now.


End file.
